"Open your eyes, my lady."
He could lift her without any exertion. Her eyes flew open, as the heat from his body seared through her. Blinking, she cleared her mind and stared at the ice that crusted his hair and crystals that clung to his eyelashes. He watched as her eyes focused. As soon as her gaze sharpened, he placed her back on her feet.
"There's something ahead – a door, I think. It might be a chance to get out of the wind, if not the cold."
She nodded, whispering a spell, preparing for whatever might me on the other side of the icy stone. But some things are impossible to prepare for.
The spell drifted away, dead on her lips. But her mouth curved into a slow, sly smile.
"My old friend. I would not have thought to find you here, so far from the arms of your lord."
Just as startled, the dwarf's smooth face was placid, but Brin could see the humour in his eyes.
"And I should have expected you, I suppose," chuckled Grimgnaw. "Blood follows you, half-elf, like a hound follows the fox."
Brin's smile tightened into a mask. "Yes, yes, you were always correct about that. I didn't give you enough credit when you were by my side, did I?"
"I would not choose to kill you, here," she said, softly. "Truly, I would not."
"Ah, Brin. Death comes for us all – you or I – we will be welcome."
Someone else might have taken the slow drift of her eyelashes and slump of her shoulders as defeat, but the dwarf knew her well. He was only slightly surprised by the speed of her attack and the electricity that flew from her hands and through his skin.
Back to back with Valen, she let him deal with the minotaur. She dealt with the spellcasters quickly, spitting fire and acid, barely a second thought as they fell. She felt his back at her shoulders, a solid wall of protection as she faced off against her old friend, her companion.
"You always were too good at what you do." Her smile was ghastly, as she gasped for breath.
"Not nearly as gifted as you, my dear. You could have been a master at my lord's side."
She felt Valen's body jerk behind her as another bolt slammed into his side. He switched his grip on his flail and swung again.
Brin dodged another blast from Grimgnaw's fists and laid a gentle hand on his arm. He gasped as his energy flowed into her fingers. She would have laughed at the shock she saw on his face, but something was wrong. What was wrong?
The smooth motion behind her faltered. The sway of Valen's protective dance shook and shattered. She felt him slide down her back. She turned and saw him fall, riddled with bolts and battered by the minotaur's giant axe. She saw him smile through the blood and sigh.
Brin spun again to face the threat of the one she had once called friend. It could have been the blast of magic or the power of her scream that drove his body back against the wall of the cave. The fury whirled around her like a twister wind. A giant hand grasped the minotaur and hurled him to the ceiling, but the blood on his muzzle was already his last.
Snarling, tasting her own blood, she stalked the last, the parasite, the source of the stinging bolts that pierced her shoulder, her thigh, skinned her cheek. Her last spell flew from her lips, as she fell to one knee. Grasping the hilt of her dagger, she staggered forward, rejoicing in the terror she saw in the immobilized rogue's eyes. Time slowed as her blade slid under the woman's jaw and up. Brin gave the inert form a vicious kick – and then another and another – as it slumped in death.
Her body propelled by adrenaline and rage, she vaulted back over the minotaur's shattered body and landed, straddled across Valen's chest. She reached down and grabbed a hank of his wine-dark hair, sticky with his blood.
"Get up! Damn you! Get up!!" She slammed her small fist into his chest, into his face. She grabbed another fistful of hair and pulled his forehead to hers. "GET UP!!! You are mine to command!!"
Her breath sobbing in her throat, she grabbed the slender wand of bone and crystal. She drew its cold surface over his face and pressed it to his heart. Her high-pitched gasps, in time with her slamming heartbeat, were only sound in the echo of her stone shelter. Even that sound stilled as she watched the pool of blood beneath them shudder and begin to seep backwards, shrinking.
Her shoulders heaving, she slammed her forehead down on his dragon scale-plated chest. She rocked, one hand still entangled in his hair, the other a fist over his heart, the wand shattered into dust. She banged her head down again, ignoring the dull thunk of bone against armour. She watched, mesmerized as her breath fogged against the shining buckles and scales – in and out, the gleam reflecting her parted lips between gasps.
Only the smallest of sounds – a choke, a whimper – escaped those lips when she felt his hand on the back of her head. Her arms shaking with rage – only rage, she knew – she heaved herself up. He let his hand drop from her hair, to rest at his side, as his blue eyes met her glare.
She clutched his cloak with one hand and slapped him with the other. Her face rigid, her eyes full of fury, she kissed him. She tasted his blood and her own. She felt his hands, once more in her hair. Her own hands grabbed at his cloak, at his hair, as she assaulted his mouth. Panting, she slapped him again.
"If you die again, I'll leave you here for the storm crows," she growled.
She heard "Yes, my lady," even as she spiralled into the darkness.